


a dream is a wish your heart makes

by eggsntoast



Series: cinderella au [1]
Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Cinderella Elements, Fairy Tale Elements, Jonas is a cat, M/M, Male Cinderella, POV Even Bech Næsheim, POV Isak Valtersen, Prince Even, cinderella 2015 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-11-26 12:30:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20930258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggsntoast/pseuds/eggsntoast
Summary: Isak has dreams. He was raised to believe in them, to wish upon every star in the night sky, and hold them dear in his heart. Most of all, he was taught to have courage and to be kind.After the untimely death of his mother, his father’s remarriage, and then his father falling ill, Isak felt as though every dream he’d ever had was crushed. After all, everything he loved was torn away from him, and he’d gone from living carefree and happy to a life of servitude to his horrid stepmother and stepsisters.His only solace is his cat Jonas, and Eskild, the sou chef.What Isak doesn’t know is that all he needs to do is keep on believing.And maybe, just maybe, all of his dreams and all of his wishes would someday come true.





	1. the first meeting

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this fic is inspired by the 2015 Cinderella ~ i hope you enjoy!

**FREDAG - 23:23**

_Three Months Earlier_

Isak didn’t know how exactly he’d lost control of the horse, but the next thing he knew, the basket of fruits he’d been sent out to buy had gone flying behind him, along with the strips of fabric he’d waited almost an hour in line to pick out. Most of all, his dignity. 

He tried to stop it, pulling at the reins but it was no use - something had spooked the horse and now he was going to spend however much longer trying to calm it down while also trying not to fall off. This was not how he wanted to spend his Friday morning, sweaty and panting and so fucking scared. 

To make things worse, the horse was tearing through the woods, a part that Isak had never been through and the further he strayed from the path, the more he wanted to cry. In the distance, he heard a horn being blown, and it only seemed to urge the horse on more to go _faster_. 

“Slow down!” Isak tried despite knowing the horse couldn’t understand him, he was desperate. “Please!” He was leaning forward now, both arms wrapped around the horse's neck, hugging it tightly and trying not to get knocked off. He squeezed his eyes shut, praying it would be over soon. 

“Are you alright!?” A voice came from behind, and Isak looked over his shoulder to find a man was chasing him on his own horse, a determined look on his face.

“He won’t stop!” Isak shouted back, and within a few seconds, the man’s horse had gone impossibly faster than his own, coming up beside him. 

His hands must’ve been magic, for all he had to do was reach over and pull the reins ever so slightly and suddenly, Isak’s horse began to slow down, coming to a trotting pace and beginning to go in circles, making Isak feel dizzy. 

He slowly sat up, his breath still shaking, his hands no better as he reached for the reins. 

“Are you alright now?” The man’s voice was sudden and _deep_, it caught him off guard as he asked Isak once again. He felt the blush rising to his cheeks as he met his eyes, watching as he sat perfectly upward on his horse, which trotted dutifully around his own in circles. 

“Yes...I think so.” He ran his hand along the horse’s mane and it huffed out a few breaths at him. Isak sagged his shoulders, he couldn’t believe his day so far. He had to make his way back now, somehow, and find everything he’d lost along the way. Heaven forbid he lose the food and the fabrics - his stepmother would have his head. They were already strapped on money, having barely enough expenses to continue paying the kitchen staff. That made his shoulders sag even more, at the prospect of losing them - the last thing he needed to add to the list of duties was a _cook_ as well as everything else. 

“What are you doing out here? You shouldn’t be travelling this deep in the forest alone.” 

Isak realized then that the man had yet to leave. He met his eyes slowly, and the man before him smiles, warm and bright. _Wow._

He’s got a wonderful face. His cheekbones are prominent and flushed, his lips full and inviting. Isak wills himself to stop admiring his features. 

Isak looks him over, the horse which was freshly groomed, and the man looks the same, wearing an expensive green coat studded with gold buttons and a high collar, a loose purple scarf tied around his neck. There’s a blanket that covers the horse, and it looks to be decorated with royal emblems. It matches the deep emerald colours of his jacket - but it doesn’t compare to the colour of his eyes. Bright and blue and staring at Isak with an intensity he rather enjoys - although, Isak won’t admit that out loud. 

“I’m not alone. I’m here with you.” He responds in a snarky tone, and silently revels in the way the man laughs, his head thrown back. He’s beautiful. 

Isak must have been a sight - all dishevelled and scared, his messy curls tied back with a white cloth. He curses himself for not wearing something nicer to the market - still dressed in his cleaning clothes which had multiple stains on them. He nervously tries to smooth out his clothing, feeling inadequate in his presence. 

He swallows, and his breath has yet to catch up with him. Although, under the gaze of this mysterious saviour, Isak was having trouble finding his breath at all. 

“What’s your name?” He asks, a polite question, but Isak gives him a challenging stare. 

“What’s yours?” 

“They call me Even, well, my parents do. When they’re in a good mood.” He responds almost instantly, and Isak tries to hide his smile. They continue to go in circles around each other, Isak’s horse still huffing and puffing. 

“And...where are you from, Mr. Even?” Isak asks, gesturing to the royal emblems of the blanket, and Even momentarily looks down before looking back at Isak. He doesn’t answer for a moment, different expressions flashing through his features, and Isak is about to ask if he’s okay when he suddenly perks up. 

“The palace… my father is teaching me his trade.” 

“Are you an apprentice?” He asks and vaguely remembers the sound of the horn - the sound of hunters chasing their prey. 

“Of sorts.” He nods and then pulls back on his reins. Isak copies his movements, and their horses go still. For a moment it’s quiet, the only sound is the leaves swaying in the breeze, and Isak watches as Even tilts his head, narrowing his eyes and looking curiously at Isak. “You don’t know who I am?” 

“Sorry I don’t keep track of who works in the palace -- or lives there, or anything of that sort.” He says, and the way Even smiles makes him think that it isn’t such a bad thing. 

In the distance, there’s a sound of three distinct blows of the horn. Whatever prey they’d been chasing had been caught, or cornered into an area to _be_ caught. It pulls both of their attention momentarily, and then Even looks back to Isak.

“Are you going to hurt it?” 

“Hurt what?” 

“Whatever animal you’re chasing.” 

Even raises a brow, “Unfortunately that comes with the trade.” 

He frowns, one hand still running over the horse’s mane in an attempt to comfort it - but he doesn’t know who he’s comforting in this moment, himself or his horse. 

“Have I upset you?” Even questions, head hanging low in an attempt to catch Isak’s eyes again. 

“No, no. I just wish it didn’t have to be _like_ that… They don’t deserve such cruelty, to be chased and hunted… as if they’re lives are lesser than our own.” Isak stops then, realizing he’s rambling, and he looks to Even quickly, “I don’t mean to belittle your work - I’m sure it’s gruelling and difficult.”

“It is.” Even responds, and he’s quiet for a moment. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way either.” 

He can hear the gallop of horses running in the distance, echoing through the trees along with men shouting. 

“Sorry to keep you. I’m alright now, you’re free to go.”

“You haven’t kept me. I mean - you have, but… there’s nowhere else I’d rather be right now.” 

Isak can feel it then - it begins in his chest, and works his way up his neck to the tips of his ears. A deep red blush takes over, and Even smiles again, impossibly wider and brighter than the last. _How are you making me feel this way?_

“Ah! There you are your high-”

“It’s Even! Even. I’m just Even.” He says hurriedly, cutting off the man and Isak holds back a laugh. _Just Even_. 

A man, this time in a more recognizable outfit, that of a royal guard, comes up behind them on his own horse. He looks at Even quizzically, and Even laughs nervously, eyes shifting from Isak’s to the mans. Even’s blushing now, but Isak tries not to think anything of it, instead letting out a small chuckle because of Even’s frantic eyes. 

“Well,” The man begins, “We better get a move on, Mr. _Even_.” He says slowly.

“On my way.” He shouts over his shoulder, but his gaze never wavers from Isak’s, even as he begins to back away, the horse turning from him. Isak lowers his head, not wanting to think about how he doesn’t want him to go - he figures it might be best if he doesn’t say goodbye at all. 

“I hope to see you again one day.” Even says, and Isak gasps, realizing he’s stopped moving, commanding all of his attention. 

“And I you.” Isak responds, his voice quiet and soft, and Even looks satisfied with the answer, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips and Isak gives him a sheepish one back. 

Even trots away on his horse, looking back at Isak over his shoulder a few times before he finally disappears from view. He takes Isak’s breath with him. 


	2. the royal ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even's life is about to change forever. He thinks it's for the worst. And it is -- being forced to find a royal partner and wed them within a few weeks. And tonight, at his Royal Ball that his parents insisted was necessary, he knows that it's all going to be downhill from here. 
> 
> Isak has secretly been hoping that by chance, he may be allowed to go to the Royal Ball. If the night goes as planned, then all his wishes are about to come true -- at least, he thought they would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that chapter summary wasn't too wordy yikes! 
> 
> Enjoy<3

**LØRDAG 08:25 **

Present Day

Even is awake much, much earlier than he needs to be. Truth be told, he hasn’t slept, he’s lucky if he got three hours. He knows it won’t be a good look on him - tired and restless with bags under his eyes - but he could care less. 

It wasn’t like he actually _ wanted _ to do this, but despite the many arguments he had with his parents over the past few months, he couldn’t prevent it. They planned the Royal Ball for him anyways, invited possible suitors for him from all over, and tonight it was all going to come together. Tonight, his parents would choose someone for him to marry, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

At least his dreams had been nice, a recurring one of a boy he’d met in the forest a few months back, needing help from his runaway horse. His eyes were green, his hair blonde and curly, and cheeks pink. Even had felt something shift inside of him that day, and ever since he’d been unable to get his mind off of him. He was saddened though, as his mind had forgotten the sound of his voice already. 

He wanted to hear his voice again. Desperately. Sometimes he can't sleep, overthinking their encounter, and _ wishing _ he’d gotten his name. 

“Ah! Good morning, Prince. I’m glad to see you up.” Mikael, his assigned maid for the past five years, who can’t be _ much _ older than Even, hops into the room and makes his way quickly to the yellow curtains, drawing them back to reveal a beautiful sunny day. The sun shines in, too bright for Even’s liking, illuminating his room that was coloured with pastel yellows and blues. 

“_ Good _ morning? It’s hardly good. I’d say it’s a horrible one.” He responds, and he can hear Mikael laugh lightly at his expense. Even turns in his bed with disdain, away from the light, wishing to never leave his bed. He’s warm here, and safe, and it’s so soft. He pulls one of the many pillows towards him and hugs it tightly against his chest, shoving his face into it. 

“I’ve brought you tea and honey, after your morning bath I shall bring you your eggs. Boiled or scrambled?” He says, his voice too cheery for Even, listing off his usual morning routine. 

“Would you do something for me, Mik?” Even sits up just as Mikael is pouring the tea, and he looks to Even with a hum. “Would you tell everyone that I am horrendously sick and can not get out of bed? Tell them I’m sorry to miss the party but — ”

Mikael tchs, shaking his head and sighing. Even stops almost immediately, knowing his pleas are falling on deaf ears once again. He wants to _ cry. _ He holds back from doing it in front of him, though, because the last thing he wants is pity. _ Boohoo _, poor little Prince, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, everything handed to him on a platter — including this Kingdom and a royal suitor. His hand curls around his bedsheets, and he stares blankly at Mikael. 

“Prince Even, I know you haven’t been looking forward to this day but I…I think it’ll be _ really _ good for you.” He nods a few times to emphasize his words, and Even lets out a distressed groan, falling back onto his bed and staring up at the ceiling in defeat as Mikael continues, “You’ll get to meet a _ lot _ of people tonight from many different kingdoms.” Even knows he’s trying to make it sound enticing but it only fuels Even’s hatred for the event even more. Why was this still a custom? He knows it’s his _ duty _ or whatever as a Prince, but why? One day, when he is King and has his own children, he knows he’ll let them marry whoever they please. 

“Even if the night doesn’t end up like how your parents — _ ahem _, the King and Queen — are hoping it will, you should still make the best of it. Do you know how long they’ve been planning this Ball for you?” He ends with a subtle guilt trip, and Even’s heart feels heavy in his chest. 

“I know.” Even responds quietly, and Mikael walks over, standing next to the bed and looking down at Even with an understanding smile, placing the tea down gently. He wants to smile back, but he doesn’t have the energy for it, or the will. 

“It’s just one night. It doesn’t mean your life is _ over _, Prince Even.”

“It sure feels like it.” 

“So dramatic.” He laughs before pulling back the sheets and Even tries to reach for them, but it’s no use. His safe and warm haven has been ripped from him, as many other things as well. His happiness, for one. His freedom too. “Time to face the day, up!” 

**LØRDAG 10:30 **

“Isak!” 

Isak turns his head quickly, feeling a twitch of pain in his neck as he does, and looks towards the voice that summons him. 

“Yes, Ma’m?” He responds, trying not to let his blood boil as she walks down the faux-marble steps with her shoes, where Isak had _ just _ finished cleaning. He watches as she leaves behind prints in her wake, her eyes drifting down to them and giving him an annoyed look, as if he put them there himself. 

“There’s a loose thread on one of Sonja’s dresses, I need you to go fix it. Do you understand how important this night is for us?”

“Yes, Ma’m.” He nods, and she walks off down the hall with a grimace. Just as she’s gone he rolls his eyes, ripping off his gloves and throwing them to the floor in a huff. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, pushing away the curls that were stuck with sweat, eyeing the marks she left behind and agreeing with himself to just get back to them later. 

“What a witch.” 

Isak is startled by the voice suddenly next to him, but is relieved to find it’s Eskild, shaking his head in the direction Lady Ida, Isak’s stepmother, had just disappeared to. He looks to Isak, the faintest hints of a smile playing on his features, and it makes Isak relax, letting out a breath he was holding. Eskild is holding a pot in his hands, one they use to make jams. It brings a smile to his face, knowing that Eskild will most definitely hide a jar just for him. 

“The wickedest of them all,” Isak whispers back, and it makes Eskild laugh, placing the pot down on the ground momentarily and putting his elbow up on the banister, looking at Isak with a pleasant smile. 

“Want some help with the dresses? I don’t know why she always asks _ you _ to check on the outfits when she knows I’m a better seamstress.” 

Isak shrugs, “As if it’ll help.” He responds, making Eskild laugh again. 

“Are you going to the _ Royal Ball _ tonight as well?” He says, rolling the ‘r’ on his tongue and giving Isak an all-too excited smile that only makes his stomach twist. He shakes his head, giving him a pitiful smile in return, and Eskild rolls his eyes. 

“What? The witch won’t let you?"

“Even if she did, I don’t have anything to wear.” He shrugs, trying not to show how much it really mattered to him. To Eskild, and to the rest of the world, Isak would pretend he didn’t care. It’s what always worked, and Isak felt safe playing the part. 

“Not true! What about your father’s black suit? We could fit it together-“

Isak shakes his head and picks up the gloves off the floor along with his cleaning supplies, and Eskild pouts. 

“You need to stand up to them, Isak. I can’t watch you be their personal servant anymore. _ Her _, especially.” He gestures to where his step-mother had just been, a look of utter distaste drawn on his features. He’s heard this speech enough times now, and Isak only ever gives him his usual response back. 

“As long as I’ve got a roof over my head and food to eat, I don’t care.” He begins to walk up the steps, but Eskild grabs his wrist, forcing him to stop. Isak turns and looks back at him over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes. 

He’s known Eskild most of his life, and he knows there's nobody else that knows Isak better - well maybe except for his cat, Jonas, who is Isak’s _ extreme _ confidant, listening to him for hours on end as he talks about all the things he usually keeps hidden. He’s a good listener. 

Eskild looks at him with that _ look _ that makes Isak want to cry because he knows Eskild just wants the best for him. But in the world Isak has grown to know, he shouldn’t be _ wanting _ anything. It’s a dangerous thing, to hope and _ wish _ for anything more than what you’ve been given. Because in the end, it all ends in disappointment and heartbreak. Isak doesn’t know if he can _ stand _ any more heartbreak, or else his heart might as well just turn to stone. It's already halfway there, he can feel it, weighing down heavily inside of him, making it hard to breathe with each passing beat. 

Isak is sure of it, he feels it in his bones, feels it when his heart hammers in his chest after waking up from a dream of _ blue, blue eyes and a beautiful smile _. It was hopeless to dream, hopeless to wish, hopeless to have this discussion. But he knows Eskild isn’t finished. 

“Eskild-"

“Don’t you want _ more _ than this, Isak?”

“What more could there be?” Isak responds a little too harshly, but it doesn’t phase Eskild, who continues to press on the matter, still not letting go of Isak's arm. He presses lightly, eyebrows furrowing up at him and Isak looks away before his heart betrays him and he bursts into tears. 

“You let them walk all over you — Ida, Sonja, Emma…they’ve got nothing on you. Nothing.”

“What’s your point?” He responds, staring down at the floor still. 

“My point is you should be going to this party. Maybe you could meet someone and finally be able to move on from this place. It’s holding you back.” He shakes Isak’s arm lightly, trying to get his point across further. 

“That’s a nice thought Eskild.” Isak says, his voice laced a certain sense of misery that he knows Eskild will catch onto. He releases his grip on Isak’s wrist, and it falls back to his side. “I’ll come to find you if I need help with the dresses.”

Eskild nods and watches as Isak disappears up the steps and down the corridor before he picks up the pot and returns to the kitchen. 

**LØRDAG 16:12**

Even’s thighs ache as he climbs off his horse, but he welcomes the burn with pleasure. It’s one of his favourite feelings after going on a ride, especially the one he just had. It had helped clear his head immensely, and despite still not wanting the party to happen, he at least feels like he can manage it now. 

He pats his horse a few times on the back before handing the reins to his stableboy, giving him an appreciative smile for letting him go for a quick ride despite his parents requesting him not to on this day, this _very special day_ which meant nothing and everything to Even. The stableboy bows politely, and Even is about to tell him it’s not necessary when he’s interrupted. 

“Even! For Heaven’s sake, I’ve been looking all over for you.” 

Even looks towards the entrance to the stables to see his mother, frowning at him disapprovingly. He sighs before he walks over to her, plastering a bright smile on his face just for her. He stops in front of her and gives her a kiss on the cheek, but her disapproving stare lingers, faltering his smile. 

“Guests will be arriving in an hour and you have yet to get your hair washed.” She says, bringing a hand to her temple. Even knows exactly where his dramatic side comes from. He knows this is important to them — but they must’ve known they couldn’t stop him from going out for a quick ride. 

“Sorry Mamma, I just wanted to clear my head a bit. I’m going to go and get ready right now, I promise.” He says truthfully, hoping it might mend the situation, but it only deepens her frown. 

“Be quick, we’ll be having dinner with the Magnussons and Schistads tonight. I need you on your best behaviour - both at dinner and the party after.” She says, and Even holds his tongue. 

He nods diligently, and she seems pleased enough to let him go. He walks past her, hands balling into fists and he brings a hand to his own temple, rubbing it temporarily. Of course she would keep this dinner invitation a secret right up until it’s about to happen. One less thing to fight about. Regardless, he’s _ tired _. He’s fought this for so long now and it turned out to be a waste of his time and energy. 

He walks back up to the castle and towards the left-wing where his room resides. He dreads each step. 

**LØRDAG 18:55**

With his legs feeling weak, Isak steps out from his room, shushing at Jonas who meows at him from the bed, stretching across the cotton sheets with his usual lazy stare. 

“Wish me luck.” Isak whispers at him before closing the door and heading down the hall. He freezes at the top of the stairs for a brief moment as he sees below him his stepmother and stepsisters, all dressed and ready to go in their expensive gowns, their hair was done up and makeup looking perfect — they’d spent the better half of the afternoon doing it. He sees his stepsisters admiring themselves in the mirror, smiling and practicing their curtseys. 

He’s wearing his father’s suit, a simple black one that he’d been tailoring secretly. He didn’t tell Eskild about it, and he made Jonas promise not to say anything (even though he knows he wouldn’t. He’s a cat, after all). He’d found it in the attic the same day the invitations came for them in the mail, his heart racing at the thought of being able to go with them and maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to see the apprentice again. His saviour, with his bright smile and blue eyes that still makes Isak feel lightheaded when he thinks of him. He could care less about the party and the royal family, he just wanted a way in. Isak remembers that he lives in the palace, and he knows this could be his only chance of ever seeing him again. 

He begins to descend the stairs, and one by one, they all look up at him in shock. Eskild is there too, but his smile is a sharp contrast to the rest, which look at him with judging stares that begin to sink into all of Isak’s insecurities. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Lady Ida asks first as Isak halts at his spot on the steps, two from the bottom, hands awkwardly placed at his side.

He looks towards Eskild, who clasps his hands together, still smiling brightly, encouraging him to continue. He takes a breath, calming his nerves, setting his hopes too high for comfort. 

“I was hoping to come with you to the party…The invitation was for _ all _ of the Valtersen’s and… I am a Valtersen.” He states. It sounds rehearsed, and that’s because it is. But now, standing in front of them and actually saying the words aloud, Isak can feel his palms sweating, breathing becoming more uneven. He wonders briefly if his heart is beating out of his ears or his chest, and if they can hear it. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart.” She begins, her voice thick with a condescending tone that makes him want to curl in on himself. He can see Emma exchanged a chukle towards Sonja from behind her. “Unfortunately I think you’ve got too many errands, and I don’t want you to fall behind.”

“He won’t.” Eskild interrupts, and the three women all look towards him, like they’ve only just noticed he’s there at all. “I’ll stay late and take on his errands tonight, he’s free to go.” He says it like its a revelation, and he looks towards Isak happily. 

“No. No, he isn’t.” Ida gives a forced smile to Eskild before looking back to Isak, and Isak’s hands ball into fists, nails digging into his palms as he wills himself not to burst into tears. “Sorry, but we don’t have room for one more.”

“But-“

“The last thing we need is to be turned away at the door for showing up with _ you. _ ” Sonja says, and Emma bursts into a cackle that sends shivers down Isak’s spine, making him feel small. He glances towards Eskild and can see him biting back more than a few words. He knows he can’t say more, he knows he has to fight his own battles. But for once, Isak wishes he wouldn't keep his mouth shut. _ Fight for me. I can’t fight for me. Please. _

“You know what the Royal Ball is for, right? The Prince is looking for his future _ Queen _, not a scrawny servant boy whose suit is too big for him - plus, did you even bathe?” Emma turns her nose up, and Lady Ida makes a show of taking a few steps back, away from Isak, watching as a furious red flush takes over Isak’s features.

“I have a friend who lives in the palace — I only wish to go to see him — I promise not to get in your way.” Isak tries, but his voice sounds defeated, and he looks down at the ground, at his pant legs which drag only slightly behind him. His curls fall into his face, hiding the way his eyes well with tears. Maybe he should’ve asked Eskild for help with tailoring the suit. 

“A friend in the palace? Don’t make us _ laugh. _We can’t afford to let our makeup crease.” Emma says, but they all let out little chuckles nonetheless. 

He feels his heart sink as he looks at his suit, at the situation he's put himself in. He's stupid for ever thinking this could work. 

“We need to get going, Isak.” 

Isak stays, staring at the ground, and waits for the front doors to close before he blinks, tears falling to the ground and splashing on his scuffed shoes that he didn't have time to shine. 

“Isak-“ Eskild begins, but Isak holds his hand out, gesturing for him to stop. He does. “They’re _ wrong _ Isak.” He adds quietly, and Isak winces from the words. “You _ know _ they don’t care what _ gender _ the Prince marries —“

“What did I tell you?” Isak snaps, and Eskild steps towards him, only for Isak to turn quickly on his heel, and begin walking back upstairs. Eskild doesn’t follow. 

**LØRDAG 20:00**

Even’s cheeks feel more strained each time he forces a smile, greeting one person after another, standing behind his parents like a shadow. He’s dressed in a tight suit, which makes him sweat as he pulls at the collar desperately for some relief. 

The pants are white, along with his white suit top encrusted with silver emblems and buttons. His neck and wrist cuffs are a light blue colour that makes his eyes pop. His hair has been styled up intricately that took almost an _ hour _ , and he makes sure to stand as straight as he can, lest he has anything _ else _ his parents would look at him for with their familiar glare of disapproval. 

His rapier is at his side, the last addition to his outfit given to him from his father. It has a silver handle that keeps hitting Even with every move he makes, and it only adds to his long list of reasons for why he doesn't want to be here. At least he feels like he looks good, and from the looks he’s getting he’s sure of it. But it's still not enough to make him want to be here, being shown off as a prize to be won. 

It hurts so, so much to keep smiling. 

He’s already reached his socializing limit, having to listen to William Magnusson and Christoffer Schistad for almost two hours, droning on about their various extravagant trips, and parties, and sex lives — all of which Even had to pretend to be interested in, nodding politely when they ask him about his own trips and sex life -- all of which were pretty much nonexistent. But they didn't need to know that. 

Now he stands, his clammy hands shaking as the night begins, wishing time would go by faster. Wishing for this night to just _ end _ already. 

“Now introducing Duke Jakob Sætre, with his wife Duchess Elsa Sætre, and their daughter, Lady Noora Amalie Sætre.” 

Even’s parents greet them first, and his mother gives him a nod towards their daughter, to which Even holds back a grimace. She's beautiful, sure, but he doesn’t want to give any impression that he’s interested.

“Welcome, so nice you could make it.” Even’s mother says, and Noora looks towards Even.

“Good Evening your highness.” She brings her gloved hands to grab at the sides of her gown, which is a beautiful lilac colour, and does a perfect curtsey. 

“Lady Noora,” He bows back politely, and she stifles a laugh at his informality. “Would you spare me a dance later?” He asks, glancing towards his mother who practically _ glows _ at the sentiment. 

“I’d be honoured.” She responds, and the Duke and Duchess begin to pull her away from the conversation, as there is still a long line of people behind them to be introduced. They have hopeful looks on their faces as they move away, and it only makes Even’s stomach turn. 

“The honour is all mine.” He says after her, and though she smiles he can see it in her eyes that she is just as uninterested as he is. He wonders if she’s in the same situation and being forced to be here. At least he’ll have something interesting to ask her later. 

The introductions and greetings continue and Even yawns halfway through, his mother nudging him lightly with her shoulder when he does. There's only a handful of people he’s genuinely happy to see — Sana, who arrives with a man he's never met. They're introduced as a couple, but before Even can ask her about it, the two have disappeared. 

It’s over soon, but not soon enough, and he’s able to excuse himself to the bar, where his first drink of the night desperately calls out to him. 

“Any fair maidens?” Mikael appears next to him after he’s ordered a scotch, and Even wants to pull his hair out. 

“I’m too sober for this.”

Mikael laughs and then brings a hand to Even’s arm, giving it a reassuring pat. It doesn’t reassure Even in the slightest. If anything, it feels like a burn. A harsh pinch, reminding him that he is who he is, and the life he leads is not his own.

“Just a few more hours, a dance or two, then you can go to bed. You’re doing great so far.” 

Even drinks his scotch quickly, and orders a double to go before stalking over to a corner to hide in. 

**LØRDAG 21:30**

Isak lies back in bed, staring blankly up at his ceiling, eyes drifting to the corner of the room where his favourite spider resides. Jonas is lying next to him and laying his cute fluffy head on his arm, which at this moment is Isak’s only comfort. Jonas’ big green eyes are looking up at him, and each time Isak sniffs, one of his little paws press against his side. 

Eskild, along with the other house staff, has gone home for the evening, and Isak is glad he’s been left alone. He wants to wallow in this for a while, he wants to _savour_ it, just so he can remember once again not to listen to Eskild, to never get his hopes up. 

The tears have finally stopped, but he doesn’t have the energy to get up and change out of his suit. He figures he might as well just sleep in it, and is about to doze off when he hears a loud _ slam _, the sound of glass shattering follows. It makes him gasp, and he sits up quickly. 

He wipes at his nose with the back of his hand, and though Jonas protests his movements with an annoyed sound, Isak gets up. 

“Come on,” He says, and Jonas stretches and takes his time before walking over to Isak. The two descend the stairs and go towards the back entrance of the house where he’d heard the noise come from. 

Isak steps with caution, broken pieces of glass from a shattered window lay scattered on the ground, and Isak quickly picks up Jonas so he doesn’t harm his paws. For once, Jonas doesn't protest and instead presses his small head against Isak's chest. 

“What could’ve caused this?” He questions out loud, and Jonas meows. His investigation grows more curious as he sees a rock, about the size of an orange, sitting in the middle of the floor, looking as though it’s been purposely thrown through the window. He closes his eyes with a sigh, deciding what to do as Jonas begins to get restless in his arms. 

He steps through the broken window and out into the cold night, trying to shush Jonas who suddenly jumps out of his arms and onto the cobblestone, running off into the dark.

“Jonas!” Isak tries, shouting in a hushed tone, but he’s gone, seemingly chasing something that’s beyond what Isak can see. Isak hopes he doesn’t bring back another mouse - the last time he did, he left it on Sonja’s pillow and Isak had to hear about it for the better half of a _ year _ . The memory still made him laugh, but he did lecture Jonas about it anyways. _ You can’t just leave dead mice everywhere — _

“I’m not Jonas, but you can call me your Fairy Godmother.” 

Isak nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound and lets out an exasperated groan when he sees its _ Eskild _, lounging on one of the stone benches, looking to be wearing an expensive suit. It’s a deep maroon colour with a long tail end that falls behind him as he stands. He’s got glitter around his eyes and in his hair, and a smile to light a thousand suns. He does a little twirl and then lets out a happy laugh as he walks towards Isak with his usual stride of confidence. 

“What are you still doing here?” Isak asks, too dejected to try and sound anything less than annoyed. 

“I’m here to make all your dreams come true, little one.” 

“No, seriously. It’s late. Just go home, I’m exhausted.” 

“You can’t kick me out, Isak. It’s a part of my celestial duties to make sure you are happy.”

“This isn’t funny... I can’t believe you threw a rock through the window!” Isak groans again, throwing his hands up and letting them slap down at his sides. “I’m going to have to clean that up tomorrow.” He groans, but Eskild just clicks his tongue at him. 

Eskild stands in front of him, and Isak can’t help but notice that there’s something… different about him -- somehow, he seems to be glowing. Isak is way, _ way _ too tired to comprehend this right now. Where did he even get a suit like that? It looks expensive, and Isak knows that even if he'd saved up a year's wage, he’d never afford it. 

“Listen, grumpy pants, whether you like it or not, I am getting you to that Royal Ball tonight. It’s not like either of us have a choice anyway… All you need is a little bit of my magic touch.” He clasps his hands again, laughing lightly in an all-too-familiar Eskild-way, and the glow around him seems to grow immensely with it. Isak rolls his eyes, too many questions filling his mind. 

“Why is this so important to you?” Isak questions, as everything Eskild has said thus far has only warranted Isak to further believe he was dreaming. He must really be up in his room right now, passed out in his suit. “What do you mean when you say neither of us has a choice? What is a ‘celestial duty’?” He asks, bringing his hands up to quote what Eskild had said. 

“Celestial duties are no simple task, nor an easy one to explain. However, Isak, if you just trust in me, your Fairy God-”

“No! This is ridiculous, I’m going to bed.” He says sharply, “And -- and this is the _ last _ we’ll talk of this.” 

Eskild raises his hand, and a sudden loud hiss comes from behind Isak. He turns just in time, watching as his beloved cat suddenly begins to transform, jumping off a table as a fluffy cat and falling into the garden as a full-grown _ human _. 

His hair is still fluffy, his eyebrows bushy, his green eyes wide and curious. He looks up from where he’s fallen, meeting Isak’s eyes. 

“What the hell?!” Isak exclaims, and he rubs at his eyes for a long moment. This _ has _ to be a dream. He’ll wake up any minute now. When he looks at Jonas again and finds that he’s still _ human _, he can’t help but feel even more alarmed. 

“Isak.” Eskild says, and Isak tears his eyes away from Jonas and back to Eskild. “I need to get you there. Will you just let me help?” 

“I...I don’t…” He looks back to Jonas, who is smiling widely, trying to stand but he keeps falling over. He too is now dressed in a suit, its a deep green colour with shoulder pads. “What is going _ on?” _He questions and Eskild places his hands gently on Isak’s shoulders, shaking him a little. 

“So far you’re reacting a lot better than I thought you would. But, we don’t have time to talk about it, we can save it for another day. It’s getting late, and we need to get you dressed.” Eskild begins to pace, and Isak stands frozen, unsure of where to begin. 

But Eskild begins for him, walking towards him and suddenly grabbing at his suit jacket and ripping the sleeves off with ease. The sound of them tearing off makes Isak go cold. 

“Eskild!” Isak scoffs, staring in disbelief. All his hard work over the past few weeks, torn easily by Eskild. He nearly begins to cry again, but there are no more tears left inside of him. 

“Sorry Issy, but I’ve got something better in mind.” He throws the sleeves to the ground dramatically, and then both his hands reach in his pockets as he takes a few steps back, pulling a handful of something out. 

Isak is about to question it when Eskild blows out a puff of air, and suddenly Isak can’t see _ anything. _

He’s surrounded in a whirl of dust and glitter, he quickly squeezes his eyes shut, his hands balling into fists, and he waits, holding his breath. _ Wake up. _This is by far the weirdest dream he’s ever had, and the most realistic. 

After a quiet moment, he peaks one eye open and is pleasantly surprised to find he’s still in one piece. He also notices that his suit - somehow, has been altered completely. 

He’s dressed in a perfectly tailored, slim fit, baby blue suit with crystal cufflinks. The suit glitters and glows in the moonlight, and Isak can’t help but gasp as he looks at it. The insides of his coat are lined with beautiful fabric, feeling like silk, a pearlescent colour to it. He’s never seen _ anything _ like it. 

He slowly raises his eyes to meet Eskild’s, who has one hand on his hip, the other on his chin as he looks quizzically over Isak. 

“Eskild… _ How. _”

“One more thing.” Eskild interrupts, and Isak feels the air shift as Eskild raises his hand and snaps his fingers. 

Isak looks down, and everything looks the same except for his shoes. Still in a classic dress shoe, but made of _ glass _ . They sparkle, and Isak shifts tentatively, watching them shimmer beneath him. He feels himself smile, and he can’t look away. Every thread of the suit is _ sparkling _ magnificently. It’s mesmerizing.

“Glass slippers?” He whispers to himself, and despite being made of glass, they’re surprisingly comfortable. Eskild is in front of him now, and he lifts Isak’s chin to look at him, giving him a warm smile, easing Isak only a little. 

“I’m dreaming, right?” Isak asks, and Eskild sighs. 

“You will be. Soon. But for now, let’s get you to that Royal Ball.” He rolls the ‘r’ again, and Isak lets out a nervous laugh, his heart beginning to feel lighter. In fact, he feels weightless. This is the best dream he’s ever had. 

“Okay.” 

**LØRDAG 21:45**

Even avoids his father’s harsh stare from across the dining hall, which is silently pleading for him to interact and socialize, maybe join in on a waltz and just do _ something _ other than sulk in a corner like a spoiled brat. But he refuses, nursing his fourth drink as two girls come up to him, invading his space and making him groan inwardly. 

They both do a small curtsy, smiling up at him. He has half a mind to just walk away, but instead, smiles politely in a tight line, like he’s been taught. He vaguely remembers them among the chorus of people he’s been introduced to this evening, but from the hopeful looks on their faces, he doesn’t have the heart to ask them who they are. 

“Prince Even, would you fancy a dance? My sister and I both have been wondering when you would join the floor, but since you haven’t, we figured-“

Even drones her out, and though he knows it’s rude to do he can’t help but look across the hall to find Noora, who’s currently whispering something to Lady Sana Bakkoush - the two erupting in laughter afterwards. He’s jealous. He’d much rather be talking to them than listening to _ this. _ Especially Sana, he hasn't seen her since last year's Gala. 

Sana is dressed in a stunning red, her lips matching the colour, her headdress decorated with rubies that sparkle much like she does. He wonders who she’s been wed to, and that thought alone gives him the opportunity to step away. 

“Excuse me, sorry.” He gave a small, forced smile and walks past them, ignoring the sounds of their scoffs, holding back from rolling his eyes as he walks to Noora and Sana, hoping to find some solace. 

“Ah, Prince Even. How’s the royal partner hunt going?” Sana asks, and Even, for the first time all day, feels himself smile without force. Noora gives him a kind smile, and he returns it genuinely. 

“Lady Sana, always a pleasure.” He does a small bow, eliciting a small chuckle from them both. 

“That’s _ Duchess _ Sana, now.” She responds, her usual snarkiness making Even laugh with delight. 

“Yes! I apologize. Where is the lucky man?” Even asks, still smiling despite his cheeks begging him not to - at this moment, he can’t help it. He has fond memories of the Bakkoush’s, coming to stay at the palace during the summer, racing horses with her brother Elias and staying up late to watch for any falling stars. He hasn’t seen them in a long time, but they send postcards every once in a while. 

“He’s gone to get me a drink, he’ll be back soon. Have you met Noora?” 

“Yes, of course. Still saving me that dance?” Even says, smiling towards her.

“If you want to dance we have to do it soon, my feet are starting to go numb.” She complains, and it makes Even chuckle, watching as Sana brings an arm around Noora and pouts, sympathizing with her friend. He almost wants to squeeze in between them and be comforted himself. 

He’s about to hold out his hand, do a formal bow and ask her in his _ Official Prince Voice _ if she’d like to dance when his attention is pulled to the grand staircase at the entrance of the dining hall. An announcement horn is blown, and the three of them all turn simultaneously to look. 

“Late arrival?” Sana questions, and Even shrugs. 

Then his breath halts, along with his heart that skips, and his mind, which goes quiet.

It all goes quiet. 

**LØRDAG 22:00**

To be honest, Isak doesn’t even know how he got here. It's all a daze. A dream. But each moment he spends living through it, the less it feels like a dream. 

One minute he’s crying in bed, the next he’s got his cat-turned-human _ driving _ a stagecoach, being led by a few mice that Eskild turned into horses. Turns out, his cat has a great singing voice, too, which is a thought that nearly melts Isak’s brain into mush as he listens to Jonas sing almost the whole ride to the palace. It's a song he’s sung in front of him before, and it only makes the whole situation feel weirder. 

“Now listen, Isak.” Eskild had begun just after Isak watched with his own two eyes as one of the pumpkins transformed into a golden carriage, something fit for royalty. “Unfortunately, there’s a catch to all of this, as there is with any magic. My powers aren’t strong enough to last more than a few hours, so you need to be back by midnight. Understand?”

Isak had nodded his head, and just for a reminder, Eskild placed a pocket watch in his coat.

“Have courage Isak. And be kind.” Eskild’s last words stick with Isak, the words stinging to hear. It’s exactly what his parents had told him ever since he was a boy — before the world came crashing around him. 

At least Isak’s no longer tired, too wired to even _ think _ about going to bed. If this is a dream, he might as well make the most of it. _ Have courage. Be kind. _

“I’m frightened, Jonas.” He whispers, and it’s odd to feel him respond, a gentle hand being placed on his shoulder instead of a pressing paw. “What if it’s nothing I’ve hoped it will be?” He looks up into those big green eyes that he’s stared at countless times before, wishing for a response but knowing it wouldn’t come. 

“What if it is?” He responds, and Isak has to hold back from letting out a laugh. His voice is what Isak always imagined it would be, deep and comforting, and wise beyond measure. “Enjoy it while it lasts.” 

He walks up to the palace and the heavy wooden doors are pulled open for him.

He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he walks down the palace corridor towards the dining hall, following the music, and he can’t believe his reflection. 

He looks - well, Isak's never thought of himself in this way but he can't deny it. He looks _ handsome _ , with his hair done nicely, his curls aren’t too wild but they seem to be intricately styled up with a few specks of glitter making him glow all over, just like Eskild was. He smiles at himself, unable to do anything but indulge. _ Enjoy it while it lasts. _

His eyes drift over to a family portrait, the royal family staring back at him with empty eyes. The King and Queen, and their only son, the Prince -- who looks oddly familiar, but he doesn't dwell on it. 

He stands at the top of a grand staircase, staring below at the party that is in full swing, almost two hours late than what his invitation had said to arrive by. With that he feels his cheeks flush, thinking maybe he should just turn around and — before he can even finish that thought, a voice interrupts him. 

“Name, please?” 

Isak looks up, a man standing next to him and clearly waiting to announce his arrival. He’s got his hand out, waiting for something, and Isak looks at him blankly. 

“Uh…” He stammers, and curses at himself for it. Then he remembers the letter Eskild had given him - an _ invitation _, his own personal one just addressed to him. He doesn’t even know where Eskild could have gotten it but he didn’t want to question it. There were other more pressing questions that Eskild said he didn’t have time for, not tonight at least. 

He takes it out of his pocket and hands it to the man as a lump grows in his throat, and he swallows thickly. He needs a drink. 

They both take a deep breath at the same time just before the man blows a horn, and then, much to Isak’s discomfort, the dining hall goes momentarily quiet, save for a few who don’t care to look or stop talking. Thankfully, the [ **music** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XXoayMIRPEA) continues playing, a soft medley that Isak thinks sounds familiar. 

“Introducing Lord Isak Tryggvasson.” The man says, then gestures for Isak to begin descending the staircase, and Isak has to hold back another laugh. Isak knows if Eskild could, he would adopt Isak in a heartbeat, he’s only said it a million times. He feels relief though, for the last thing he needs is his stepmother hearing his name being called out. 

Isak puts one foot in front of the other and begins to descend. It’s only then that he begins to take in his surroundings, looking up at the ceiling with its grand architecture and shimmering chandeliers that make him gasp at how elegant it all is. There's artwork and statues, unlike anything he’s ever seen before. He realizes then that he's stopped moving, standing halfway on the steps, mouth open and gawking at the room around him. He gulps a little nervously, seeing a few eyes on him, and he quickly beings walking again. Before he knows it, he's made it to the bottom with ease. 

His chest swells with nerves as elegantly dressed people with judging continuously eyes stare him down. He swallows again, mouth dry, and his eyes travel the room until he sees the bar, deciding to make that his first stop. 

**LØRDAG 22:05**

“Who _ was _ that?” Even asks once he sees the beautiful boy in the baby blue suit and curly blonde hair, _ sparkling _ with each step he takes descending the stairs, his heart beating so rapidly in his chest he’s sure the whole room can hear it. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, he doesn't know why he's so out of breath. 

“Oh, sorry, I wasn’t listening.” Sana says, turning from Noora to give Even a sheepish smile.

“I’ll be back.” He says as he’s moving away before either can even respond, pushing through the sea of people, carefully making sure not to stop on anyone’s gown in the process. 

He sees the boy walk from the staircase over to the bar, and he can barely make out the top of his head over the crowd of people, but he’s determined to find him. He _ has _ to find him. He feels something inside of him, burning with the need to know who he is. 

“Hey.” William Magnusson suddenly steps in front of Even, and Even nearly trips into him. 

“Uh, hey, how’s your night going?” He responds, looking around William and looking around helplessly. 

“Who’s that girl you were talking to?” He asks, gesturing behind him, where Noora and Sana stand, now in a bigger group of girls, all giggling together. He knows he’s not talking about Sana. 

“Uh, Noora, I think? Why?"

“Care to introduce me?”

“Wow, William Magnusson. Trying to take away one of _ my _ suitors?” Even laughs, but it quickly dies out as William gives him a glare. 

He seems uninterested in the banter, and Even lets out another nervous laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Sure, just… give me a minute.” He walks past him, leaving him in a crowd of people and walking with determination to the bar. He looks around once he gets there, unable to see the beautiful, sparkling boy in blue anywhere. 

“Hey, another scotch?” The bartender asks, and Even shakes his head quickly, feeling dizzy with it. 

“Did you see where the man in the light blue suit went? The one that sparkled?”

“Oh um…Sorry, your highness, I didn’t keep track.” He says sheepishly, looking at Even like he’s done something wrong. 

“That’s alright.” Even nods, and then with a disappointed sigh, he makes his way back through the crowd, eyes darting around the room as he looks for him. There’s no way he could’ve just disappeared - but in a crowded room of maybe 400 people, Even was feeling hopeless. 

William is standing a little off to the side from where Noora is, so Even decides he might as well work on that while he has the time to. 

“You’re back!” Noora smiles and Even gives a tight one in return, trying not to let his disappointment seep through his features. 

“Prince Even, this is my husband, Yousef.” Sana says, and Even has to force a smile again as the man shakes his hand, a triumphant smile on his face with one arm around Sana’s waist. 

“Ready to dance now?” Noora asks, arms crossed over her chest. She looks bored, about as bored as Even thinks he must’ve looked earlier. 

“Actually,” Even looks towards William, and that’s when he notices he is now distracted by two girls - the ones from earlier who had cornered Even - and were pulling him to the dance floor. William looks towards him with wide eyes, silently begging for help, and Even sighs. “Yeah, let’s go.” He doesn’t care right now for the formalities and holds out his hand plainly. 

“Lets!” Noora repeats, taking Even’s offered hand and following him out to the middle of the dance floor, where people begin to disperse to give room for the dancing, and room for the Prince’s first dance of the night. 

A waltz begins, and Even dances with Noora like it’s his seventh sense, having taken lessons most of his life. He almost laughs at William, looking helpless as one of the girls talks his ear off, the other one has gotten some other poor soul to dance with them.

But that’s when Even spots _ him _, and for a moment, the world around him goes quiet again, he almost misses a step but catches himself before he trips into Noora. 

Standing on the edge of the crowd, eyes flitting over the dancers as he sips what looks to be some kind of cherry cocktail, tinting his lips red ever so slightly. Even looks back to Noora, the image of the beautiful boy burned into his mind. 

He’s seen him before, he _ knows _ he has, but he can’t place it. 

“You okay?” She whispers, and Even nods quickly, feeling lightheaded. 

The waltz ends and with it, the beginning of a [ promenade ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xAJIMBqlGWo), and Even stands opposite to Noora, beside William, who nudges Even with a look of annoyance. 

“Switch partners with me,” he whispers through his gritted teeth, but Even is too distracted to listen, because he sees that the boy has now entered the promenade - and his partner is none other than Christoffer _ fucking _ Schistad. _ Hell no. _

“Fine.” Even whispers quickly, and as the promenade begins, the first person he switches partners with is William, slowly making his way towards the only actual person Even wants to dance with - the only person to have ever captured Even's attention like this. 

He feels _ butterflies _ in his stomach, watching as with every step the boy takes, the glow from the chandeliers follows. But it’s _ him _ that’s glowing, sparkling, shimmering. He’s mesmerizing. 

He’s got a bright smile on his face, and Even admires his form and his steps, following perfectly in line to Chris. He twinkles with each step, a glistening vivacity that enraptures all of Even’s attention. 

Chris leans forward to say something, only for the boy to begin blushing a deep pink, looking up at Chris with an innocent expression, filled with wonder. 

_ No. _Even thinks, and then switches partners again, thankful that now Chris and the boy have switched too, and now, he and Even are one switch away from being partners. He hasn't noticed Even yet, but Even is hoping, praying he'll look up, meet his eyes and hopefully he'll know where he’s seen him before. 

“I’m Sonja, it’s _ so _ nice to finally be here with you.” The woman before him speaks, and Even tears his eyes away from the boy to look at her, almost startled by her presence despite dancing with her for the past minute and a half. 

“Yeah, thanks for coming.” He says, sounding as detached as he feels, and he’ll have to worry about sounding unprofessional later because then the violin strikes a new chord and the partners switch like clockwork. 

Even meets him halfway, but the boy freezes, looking up at him with wide, green eyes that Even wants to drown in. His mouth hangs open and Even raises an eyebrow towards him, completely and utterly enthralled. He doesn’t step forward, and instead, begins to bow. 

It hits Even then, suddenly and forcefully like a punch to the stomach, that he has seen this boy before. 

It’s _ him. _ The boy with the runaway horse. The boy who has been on his mind for months, plaguing his dreams endlessly. But it’s not like Even’s complaining. _ Who are you? _

“Your highness,” He begins, and it makes Even chuckle, but something in his heart hurts. _ I thought you didn’t know me. _

“That’s not necessary — we’re in the middle of a dance.” Even steps forward and raises his hand, and the boy looks up, a sheepish smile on his face as he steps forward to meet Even’s awaiting dance formation. 

“Sorry.” He squeaks, and it’s the cutest sound Even’s ever heard. Even _ wants _ to respond, _ so _ desperately, but everything he wants to say gets caught in his throat along with his breath, his stomach doing incredible flips as they twirl around one another, the boy’s emerald green eyes locked to Even’s blue. 

Every step feels like a dream. 

The boy’s eyes flicker around nervously, but Even just continues to stare, fascinated. _ Don’t you remember me? _

“They’re all looking at you.” He whispers, Even shakes his head quickly in disbelief. 

“Believe me…they’re all looking at _ you _.” 

His green eyes widen and lock onto Even’s for the rest of the dance, inseparable from his own. _ Do you dream of me like I have of you? _

The song ends shortly after and Even is grateful for it. 

“You’re a good partner.” Even says quietly to him as the crowd claps to the musicians and for the dance, but Even pays no mind to any of that. He’s too focused on the way the boy’s face flushes, and he elicits a nervous chuckle, making Even smile in response. Though his cheeks hurt, he welcomes it. 

“You’re not too bad yourself… I mean.. of course you’re good… you’re the _ Prince… _right?” He gestures towards Even, meeting his eyes shyly. 

“I am. And you are?” Even asks, his heart soaring through his chest just being in his presence. The boy looks at him, shock still playing across his features, and he blinks a few times, a stuttered breath escaping his lips. 

“Me? I’m… Isak…_ Just _ Isak.” 

“Isak.” Even repeats, feeling warmth course through him at finally being able to know his name. Isak shuffles, and Even looks down to his shoes, which are made of glass, sparkling._ Where have you been? _

He takes a small step closer to him, and Isak’s eyes flutter between the ground and back up to Even, and from the way he’s breathing, Even can tell he’s just as nervous as he is. 

“Come with me?” He lifts his arm, offering it to Isak, who gasps at the gesture. It’s so cute that Even feels overwhelmed, staring down at this boy who sparkles more with each passing second. 

“Uh, yeah, of course. Yes. Sure.” He stumbles over his words and lets out a nervous laugh, and Even finds it so endearing and _ so _ adorable. He just wants to squish his cheeks, pull his hair, make him _ his. _ He indulges for now in the softer gestures, in the way Isak’s long lashes flutter, casting shadows down his rosy cheeks. 

Isak places a hand around Even’s bicep and holds it lightly, gently, a ghost of a touch, and Even leads him through the crowd and out of the dining hall, away from his parent’s unwavering stare, away from the intensity of the crowd. 

**LØRDAG 23:25**

Isak follows as _ Prince Even Bech Næshism, _ of all people Isak could’ve met with tonight, leads him through a hall of portraits and statues, all of which Isak barely has time to register. He’d only ever heard about him from listening in on his stepsister’s gossip, but actually being in his presence was _ nothing _ compared to the stories they’d tell. 

Isak keeps looking towards him, trying to place where he’s seen him before, but despite his brain _ aching _ to know, he can’t place it. He’s too nervous, his mind blanking completely under Even’s unwavering gaze. 

He pauses once his eyes land on a beautiful portrait that literally makes him freeze in his steps. 

“Is this you?” Isak stops, and Even turns towards him, rolling his eyes and smiling sheepishly up at his portrait of himself, riding his horse and looking stoic, swirls of reds and whites behind him. He’s beautiful even in a painting. 

“Yes… I hate myself in paintings, don't you?”

“Oh…nobody has ever painted my portrait before.” Isak says, and he can’t place the expression on Even's features, his eyes fixed on Isak, making his heart clench. 

“They should.” He responds quiet and genuine, placing a hand on the small of Isak’s back. Isak looks back up to the portrait - and then it hits him. 

He steps away from Even frantically, gasping. 

“Oh my god! You — you’re the man who stopped my horse in the woods. Oh my_ god! _ You said you were just — oh my _ god _—” 

Even laughs, and it only makes Isak’s cheeks feel incredibly warmer. 

“I’m...I feel so stupid. I’m so sorry—” 

“Don’t apologize. I’m sorry for not telling you...I was afraid you might treat me differently if you knew.” He steps forward, his hand coming to rest on Isak’s arm, and it nearly sends fireworks throughout his body. Not _ nearly _ — it does. It ignites every part of Isak, even the darkest parts that he's kept down all these years. “I’m happy we’ve gotten to meet again.” His words make Isak feel like he's floating. 

And then he’s leading him out of the room, two guards opening a pair of tall glass doors that lead out onto a porch, overlooking the royal gardens and stables, well lit with lights and decorated with flowers and royal banners. 

“Won’t they be missing you?” Isak questions, but Even shrugs, and Isak wonders how he can be so casual about this. This party is meant for him to find a suitable, _ royal _ partner, and yet here he is, standing alone with _ Isak _ and acting like he’s got nothing better to be doing. 

“Maybe, but I don’t want to go back just yet... Do you?” 

The air hangs between them, Even’s hand no longer on the small of Isak’s back. He clasped them behind his own and walks next to Isak, going nowhere in particular. The night is cool, the cold making Isak feel like he can breathe again. But he can’t, he’s too overwhelmed. 

“No.” Isak responds, surprising himself with how genuine it sounds. Because it’s true - he doesn’t want to go back inside where he was surrounded by people who think they are better than him. Especially being here, with Even, Isak feels like he’s currently living in one of the many stories his mother and father used to tell him before bed, filling his mind with hopes and dreams of the future. 

The future is here, right now, Isak realizes, as Even’s shoulder brushes against his, and it makes his breath escape him, looking up into the sky, to the stars that shine down on him, and he begins to count them, wishing on every one, even the ones that don't shine as bright as the others. _ Don’t let this be just a dream. And if it is, don’t let me wake up. _

“Can I show you something? It’s a secret. So you mustn’t tell anyone else.” Even says, stopping in his tracks, and Isak turns to look at him, feeling his cheeks go warm under his gaze. 

“Yes.” 

Even offers his arm again, and this time, Isak holds it properly, looking up at him and giving him a smile that Even returns brightly, blinding Isak and making something in his chest swirl with vigour, with hope. He lets himself hold onto the feeling, sinking deep into it. 

Even leads him through the garden until they come across a gazebo, hidden away off to the side. Its trellis is lined with flowers and lights, purples and blues that are so beautiful in the night, Isak can’t imagine how stunning it is in the day. 

“I come here often, to write and to think, I’ve never taken anyone here.” He comments, leading Isak inside, stepping in with him and leading him to a seat. 

Isak sits, mouth feeling dry as Even sits beside him, still looking at _ him _ despite all the other beautiful things to look at around them. 

“It’s beautiful.” He says, still admiring the view. He wants to soak it in, he feels like he’s stepped into paradise. 

“Yes, it is. I’m glad you think so too.” 

Something shifts in his features then, a brief look of sadness taking over, his smile faltering. 

“What’s wrong?” Isak asks quickly, unsure if he’s done or said something wrong. He can’t see any stars right now, but he wishes on one nonetheless. 

Even lets out a heavy sigh, bringing a hand to rub at his temple momentarily. 

“When I go back, they will try to pair me off with a partner of their choosing - I'm expected to marry for advantage.” Though it sounds like he’s trying to make light of the situation, Isak can’t help but hear the pain in his voice. 

“Who’s advantage?” Isak asks, and Even chuckles, shaking his head slightly at the incredulous question. 

“That’s a good question.” He responds, leaning back and the wood beneath them creaks, the shadows on his face shifting, and he looks so beautiful. Another wish, Isak thinks with a guilty pleasure, is for time to stop right now. He thinks it would be delightful to be able to spend an eternity sitting here, listening to the sound of cicadas humming, and watching as the lights dance around Even, making Isak’s heart beat impossibly faster.

“Surely,” Isak begins, and Even looks at him, a bemused smirk on his face, “You have _ some _ say in it?” 

“Unfortunately that decision is solely up to my parents—“

“So you have no control over any of it?” Isak cuts him off, and Even looks momentarily surprised by it, but he doesn’t continue, so Isak does instead. “What if…what if you meet someone and…and what if they’re not up to their standards? But regardless of a title, regardless of everything you’ve been taught, you feel something for them?”

He pauses mid ramble, unsure of how to comprehend the look Even gives him. 

He's taken back to that day in the woods when he’d ranted about hunting, and Even was giving him the same look then as he is now — fascination and curiosity, urging him to go on. 

“As long as you have courage, and you’re kind... What then?”

**LØRDAG 23:50**

Even can't believe it. Here he is, having somehow gotten lucky enough to meet Isak again, to dance with him, and now sitting alone with him - every word that comes out of his mouth more beautiful than the next. 

“What then?” Even responds, thinking it over, and Isak shuffles again, looking nervous as he plays absently with his hands, running them over each other in an anxious manner that Even is all too familiar with. 

In the distance, he can hear the [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b7_k3cWTGzk) from the party, still in full-swing despite his absence, which he’s sure his parents must know about by now if they didn’t see him leave with Isak. His heart sinks, unsure of how much time they might have left alone. He wants to stay here forever. 

“Isak,” Even whispers, and Isak slowly looks up to meet his eyes. Even can’t believe how unsure he looks, staring up at Even with wide eyes and parted lips, his cupid bow and button nose making the deepest, darkest parts of Even feel warm and light. 

“Forgive me if I’ve spoken out of turn, your highness, but… only you can feel what you feel.” 

Even brings a hand to Isak’s, and watches, mesmerized, as their hands link together seamlessly, Isak’s smaller one fitting perfectly in Even’s. 

Isak looks from their hands and back up to Even as a blush creeps up to his ears, and Even can’t believe it. In comparison to the boy in front of him, nothing else stands a chance. Not his dreams. Not his parent's wishes. 

_ Only you can feel what you feel. _

“You haven’t spoken out of turn. Not even slightly.” Even whispers, and doesn’t miss the way Isak’s eyes flutter at his words, a soft sigh of relief escaping his lips. 

“Won’t you tell me who you really are?” Even asks, and Isak looks away, unable to meet his eyes. 

He squeezes his hand gently, and Isak squeezes back, an unfamiliar warmth coursing through Even. It feels like a promise. 

Even leans in, ever so slightly, and watches as Isak’s breath hitches, his body turning towards him, his chin tilting up to meet Even halfway. 

He’s going to kiss him. He _ has _ to. His heart is wishing for it. He's been dreaming about it since he saw him all those months ago. 

A bell tolls in the distance, and suddenly everything is ripped away. 

Isak stands, looking alarmed, pulling his hand away from Even’s. 

“I have to go.”

“What?” 

“Thank you for this — it was lovely. I’ve loved every second.” 

Isak is running before Even can even stand up, disappearing down the path and leaving Even dumbfounded. 

He gets up, running as well, running after him through the halls and past all of the people who call out his name. 

“Wait, please!” Even yells desperately, but Isak doesn’t stop, and he watches with a heavy heart as the front doors are opened and Isak rushes through them without turning to look at him. 

He’s stopped by his guards at the entrance to the palace, watching as Isak jumps inside of a grand, golden carriage. He notices something then, a sparkling glass shoe, left behind on one of the steps. He reaches for it, and looks to one of the guards, holding it firmly in his hand. 

“Get my horse.” He says, feeling confident as his chest heaves. He can’t let Isak slip away like this, not when he was so close. His hand grips the shoe tighter, the only thing he's been left to remember Isak by. 

“It’s not safe for you, your highness. It could be a trap. You must return to the Ball at once—“

“Send out a troop then. After that carriage. Now.” He commands, and instantly his people begin running about, past him and down the steps. He stays for a few more minutes, watching as twelve men on horses begin racing after Isak, after the man of his dreams. 

He’s forced to return to the party, but he refuses to dance or mingle, and instead, spends the night with Sana and her husband Yousef, the three of them laughing at how badly William is at wooing Noora. 

But Even doesn’t forget, his mind constantly replaying images of Isak in his mind, his green eyes and beautiful smile, his kind words and soft voice. Even is silent, desperately wishing for him to be found. 

**SØNDAG 00:45**

Isak hasn’t stopped crying the whole way back, an endless sob that wrecks through him. He didn’t want to look back at the palace as they rode away, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d seen Even standing there, looking after him desperately with his blue eyes wide and lost, his previous, desperate pleas to Isak replaying in his head. 

He brings his knees up to his chest, holding himself tightly. He’s taken off his suit jacket, leaving it next to him, knowing it’ll turn to rags soon enough and he can’t bear to look at it. This was all an illusion. A _ what-if. _ Isak should be grateful he got to experience it. But he’s not, if anything, it just hurts more. He’s _ never _ felt a pain like this. 

Even’s face flashes behind his eyes, those blue eyes burning into him, his rosy cheeks and kind smile. Even, who was the _Prince_, not just some simple apprentice, who was going to be married off to some royal suitor. _ Even _, who is everything Isak had always wished on stars for. 

He’s back home before he knows it, the stagecoach coming to a halt and he waits for Jonas to open the door again, the silence that surrounds him in the meantime making him feel cold. He can see that the carriage is beginning to decay, vines growing inside, his shimmering suit losing its glow. It’s only then that he realizes he’s lost one of his shoes, and he groans, shaking his head at himself, wondering what could have possibly happened to his other glass slipper. 

Jonas looks at him for a long moment, then holds out his hand. 

“Come on, Isak. You’ll feel better in the morning.” His voice is comforting, coaxing Isak to finally stand, his knees feeling weak and tired. 

Isak takes his hand, and with Jonas’ help, is able to climb out as gracefully as he can. He looks up at the dark castle that looms before him, overgrown and cold, and doesn’t have it in him to cry any more than he already has. 

“Was it worth it?” Jonas asks, and Isak can see that his pupils have already begun forming vertically again, the magic waning. 

Isak stares for a long moment, shaking his head and taking a deep breath before he answers. 

“There’s never been anything else more worth it than this, Jonas.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whew!! this was long! but i hope you enjoyed ~~ <3 
> 
> Eskild being Isak's fairy godmother may just be one of my favourite things I've ever written!!  
Hope you enjoyed the little side Yousef/Sana and William/Noora!!   
Also I didn't like making Sonja & Emma Isak's evil stepsisters but I also didn't feel like making them random people! No hate for them tho D: 
> 
> I imagine Even's outfits to be much like Kit's from the 2015 cinderella, but Isak's I've left to the imagination!  
Also, I hope the music accompaniment wasn't a bad decision lol I just loveee the soundtrack and I tried to fit some of my fave songs in!
> 
> The final chapter coming soon! <3
> 
> xo, kris


	3. the perfect fit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isak feels hopeless, and Even searches tirelessly for the man of his dreams.

**SØNDAG 08:00**

Isak wakes to find Jonas, who has now returned in his familiar fluffy form, looking up at him. He glances around his room, noting that everything looks the same, and it all feels the same - except, it doesn’t. Not even slightly. 

Isak spots the only thing he has left to remind him of the night - his single glass slipper, sitting on his side table. He knows he should hide it, lest his stepmother or stepsisters find it, but he wants to leave it there on display in rebellion. _I was there. I danced. I lived. It wasn’t just a dream._

Isak laughs, unable to believe that the events of the night had occurred. Jonas purrs, pressing his nose against Isak’s cheek and making him laugh more, completely out of control, his heart feeling light and heavy at the same time. 

He sits up and pulls Jonas into his lap, lifting him up ever so slightly. 

“Jonas, can you believe it?” He asks, and Jonas meows, making Isak chuckle. “I think I lived through a dream last night, Jonas. You asked if it was worth it…and it was. It truly was.” Jonas blinks, and though Isak used to think he couldn’t understand him, he’s almost sure of it now that Jonas is hanging onto every word. He only wishes he could respond. “Do you think it meant as much to him as it did to me?” He whispers, his voice feeling small in the empty attic. 

“Eskild,” He says suddenly, getting out of bed in a rush. “I have to talk to him, right?” He looks to Jonas, who now lounges across the empty bed sheets lazily. On his pillow lies a few specks of glitter. He grabs his glass slipper, and opens his side drawer, taking out his box of sewing needles and spare fabrics, and hides it underneath all the clutter, quickly putting it back in his drawer. 

He sighs, looking out his window momentarily as the sun of a new day shines in. 

The morning carries on like any other, and when he goes downstairs to expect his stepmother to yell at him for the broken window, he finds that the window’s been replaced, and any shattered glass was swept up. It almost looks as if it was never broken at all. 

Isak keeps wondering if last night actually happened, despite the shoe hiding in his dresser and the few specks of glitter that fall from his hair throughout the day. Though its faint, he can still feel Even’s fingers laced with his, feel the brush of his thumb against the back of his hand. 

He asks the head chef, Ingrid, if she’s seen Eskild, but she looks at him like he’s got two heads.

“Are you feeling alright?” She questions and Isak nods quickly, shrugging off the expression she gives him, one of worry and confusion. 

“Do you know if he’ll be in soon?” He presses, leaning over the counter. 

“If _who_ will be in soon?” Ingrid asks, chuckling lightly and shaking her head, returning to chopping up vegetables, wiping one hand on her apron. 

“Eskild.” He says plainly, a lump growing in his throat, studying her eyes intensely. 

“Isak, I don’t know who that is.” She responds, "If you're not going to get to your duties then make use of yourself in here." And then she points to one of the knives, silently asking him to help. He doesn’t question her anymore, and instead helps chop the potatoes into thin slices, biting on his lip nervously. _Was it all just a dream?_

He’s forced to go into town with his stepsisters, trailing behind them as they walk from shop to shop, picking out necklaces and shoes and different fabrics to be made into gowns. He’s standing in the market, eyeing a basket of peaches that look enticing, when his attention is pulled away. 

A few horns blow, the sound of an upcoming royal announcement, and it makes his heart skip. He looks up, as do Sonja and Emma, to find a royal guard standing above the crowd with a parchment in his hands. 

“Hear ye, hear ye!” He begins, and Isak steps forward, his stomach sinking as he waits for the announcement. The guard clears his throat, looking amongst the crowd with a smile. “Know that your royal highness, Prince Even, hereby declares his love,” The crowd gasps, Isak holds his breath, “For the mysterious Prince who wore glass slippers to the ball. His highness requests that he present himself at the palace, whereupon, if he be willing, Prince Even will forthwith marry him, with all due ceremony.” He ends extravagantly, and Isak finds himself running, through the crowd, away from his stepsister’s calls, and back home. 

He runs up to his room, opening his door and running quickly over to his bedside table, but stops cold in his tracks once he notices it open, his sewing box missing, some of the contents strewn about the floor. But the _slipper_ — it's gone. 

“Are you looking for this?” 

Isak gasps, turning as his blood runs through him like ice. In the corner of his room sits his stepmother, holding in her hand the glass slipper. She holds it precariously, looking as if she could drop it at any moment. She gives him an icy stare, her lips drawn into a thin line. 

“That’s mine.” He says, his voice shaking, hands trembling at his sides as she stands, a mischievous smirk growing on her face that makes him feel queasy. 

“Oh, is it? Please, tell me the story that surely goes along with it, then.” She walks towards him, and Isak can’t find the words. “No? Was it not worth remembering?” Her voice is cold, and Isak’s bottom lip begins to quiver, tears welling in his eyes. “Did you steal it?” She questions and Isak shakes his head quickly. 

“It was given to me.” He answers truthfully, and she scoffs, turning her nose up at him. 

“Given to you? Nothing is ever _given._ For everything, you must pay.” Her words are harsh, and with every step she takes closer to Isak, he feels the floor sink below him. 

“That’s not true.” He finally meets her eyes, and despite every fibre within him screaming at him to run, he stands his ground. “Kindness is free, as is courage. Love—”

“Love?” She says the word back to him, foreign on her tongue, and her face scrunches up in disgust. “What would you know about _love, _Isak?” 

She stands next to him now, towering over him, her shadows casting darkness upon him. He takes in a few staggered breaths, unable to meet her eyes again. 

“Nobody will believe you. A dirty servant boy without a family.” She says, stinging Isak relentlessly. “Now, here is what you’re going to do, Isak. To pay _me_ for all I’ve given to _you_.” Isak clenches his jaw, biting his tongue. “If you want what you desire, this is how it’s going to work. If you claim the Prince’s generous, and I mean _generous, _heart, you will marry him and make me the head of the royal household, Sonja and Emma will pair off with wealthy Lords, and I will be there to guide you and the Prince. _Manage_, if you will. Lord knows, that boy needs managing.“ She huffs out a laugh, rolling her eyes.

“He’s not a _boy_.” Isak responds, and Ida steps around him, still cackling as she looks outside the attic window. 

“And how would _you_ run a kingdom? Best leave it to me, that way we all get what we want.” She begins to walk away, the slipper still in hand, but Isak finds it within him to be courageous. 

“No.”

“No?” She stops, looking at him questionably, daring him to continue. 

“I was not able to protect my father from you, but I will protect the Prince. And the Kingdom. I won’t let you spoil anything that’s good. No matter what becomes of me.” 

She sighs, and Isak holds his breath.

“Well, that was a mistake.” She utters. 

Suddenly she raises her hand and slams the glass slipper against the wall. 

The world seems to slow as the slipper shatters, falling to the floor in a million glimmering pieces. Isak gasps, he can feel his heart shattering with it, falling deep within him into darkness. 

“No! Why— why are you so cruel?“

“Pity.” She responds, her cheeks flush with anger. “I guess the only good thing to come of this is we’ve saved the Kingdom from embarrassment. As if that Prince would ever fall for the likes of _you_.” She turns, glass crunching beneath her shoes as she exits the room. Isak runs forward and tries to catch the door, but it slams in his face. The lock clicks on the other side, and Isak falls to the floor, an unceremonious sob falling from his lips. 

**SØNDAG 13:30**

Even stands by his window, staring out into the garden, thoughts running rampant as he waits for news. Any news would be good, as he hasn’t heard a single word from any of the guards. 

Rushed footsteps approach his door, and he turns just as it opens, Mikael standing there with a sad look on his face. 

“Anything?” He whispers, desperate. 

“I’m sorry your highness. It seems as if — as if he doesn’t exist. We’ve gone through all the names of the Lords, and his is nowhere to be found.”

“His name is Isak—“

“I know, but we don’t have an invitation card from him. And nobody has ever heard of him before. I’m so sorry, Even.” His informality slips through but Even doesn’t mind it. He squeezes his eyes shut, grimacing at the news. Maybe not all news was good. 

“Then we’ll search other Kingdoms, all of them until he is found.” 

“But, your highness-“

“I’ll do it myself if I have to.” Even steps past him and Mikael follows as they walk quickly through the corridor into the main dining hall where his mother is enjoying tea and a book. 

He passes by her, and despite Mikael’s growing protests, he makes it out to the front entrance, commanding one of his workers to get his horse. 

“For the good of the Kingdom, you must marry someone else. Surely there was another suitor—“

“No.” Even stops then, and he has to compose himself before he lets his anger get the best of him. He can’t get mad at Mikael, or anyone, they’re all doing their best to find Isak, as per his orders. “Give me some time. If…if I can’t find him… then I’ll agree to marry whoever my parents want.” He chokes the words out slowly, painfully, the idea of being unable to find Isak hurts more to say aloud than it does to think it. It almost makes it _real_. Maybe it is. Maybe it’s too good to be true. 

Mikael looks solemn, but there’s a sense of pride in his eyes at Even’s words. He nods, and Even descends the stairs, climbing up on his horse and riding off with a few guards trailing behind him, the glass slipper weighing heavily at his side. 

**ONSDAG 14:45**

Isak stands, feeling his knees crack as he does, off the marble staircase, looking down at his work, and bringing a hand to his forehead to wipe away the sweaty curls. He breaths out a huff, and is about to move on when Ida suddenly steps into the room, her eyes wide. 

“The Royal Guard is here.” She states, and Isak stares back at her blankly. "Get to your room. Now.” Her voice is shaking, and it scares Isak with how determined she is.

Sonja and Emma run down the steps, leaving wet marks that Isak rolls his eyes at, the two of them exclaiming their excitement at the guards finally paying them a visit. Ida gives him a glare, and begrudgingly, he begins to walk up the steps as the doors open and she greets the royal guards. 

The past two days have gone by excruciatingly slow, having to listen to Sonja and Emma’s gossip. Apparently, the Prince had his guards running throughout the Kingdom, desperately trying to find the mysterious Prince who stole his heart, sparing no efforts in their search. 

The only thing left behind was a shoe, made of glass, and Isak's heart painfully clenched in his chest at the thought of Even having it, looking at it longingly and wondering where Isak had disappeared to. 

He knew Even deserved better. He almost hoped the shoe would fit another, and then this whole catastrophe could be behind him. Ida was right, after all. 

Would Even love him if he knew he could give him nothing in return? If he knew that Isak wasn’t anything special? That he was just a dirty, servant boy with no family? Surely not. After all, he was looking for a _royal_ suitor - a Prince or Princess to fit his world. Isak would only disappoint him. 

Isak had swept up the remnants of his shattered glass slipper and placed them gently in a fabric, the ripped sleeve from his father’s suit jacket that Eskild had torn. It sat in his side table, and he refused to look at it, for even a glance would render him useless. 

He hadn’t seen Eskild since he returned from the ball, and felt more alone now than he ever had. It seems as if he, too, had disappeared, just like Isak had for the Prince. It’s almost ironic, and it’s painful. So, so painful. How could Eskild have just disappeared like that? Without anyone knowing who he is? Especially after knowing the events that took place — if he was, in fact, his _fairy godmother_, then he _must know_. Despite Isak wishing for him to return, there was nothing. Not even a note. Just an empty silence that deepened the void within Isak's heart. 

Isak pushes the thoughts away, returning to his duties and filling his days with work and going to sleep as soon as he can. Jonas would await him to lick away all the tears he shed before finally succumbing to a night of deep sleep, only to wake from his dreams of blue eyes and a bright smile, and back to his nightmare of a reality. 

Every male, servant and royal alike, have tried on the slipper. Lines of women were standing outside the palace, desperate to give it a try despite the fact that none of them fit the Prince's description of his lost lover. _Blonde. Green eyes. Small build. Beautiful._ The words sounded foreign coming from Sonja, who asks him if he knows of anywhere she could get green eye contacts. 

He closes the door to the attic, going to sit at the window as Jonas jumps up into his lap. 

“Just need to wait it out.” He whispers to Jonas, and to himself, tears stinging his eyes and he wills them to go away. He’s cried more over this than he would like to admit, and he just wants it to just go away already. 

Jonas looks to him, and Isak swears there are tears in his eyes, too. He doesn't know if he's just reflecting his own feelings onto him, but Isak doesn't want to dwell on that thought either. 

“Would a song make you feel better?” He asks, lifting one hand to open the window, the air stifling in the attic after the sun had been beaming inside all day. Jonas purrs, and he takes that as a yes. 

He clears his throat, making himself laugh at the ridiculousness of it all before he begins to hum and sing, to a song his mother would sing to him when he was young. 

“_Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green. When I am King, dilly dilly, you will be Queen_.” His voice is soft and sweet as he sings the melody, and despite the agonizing pain in his chest, he lets himself get caught up, singing the song and picking up Jonas, dancing around his room with him in his arms. 

“_Lavender's green, dilly dilly, lavender's blue. If you love me, dilly dilly, I will love you-_“

He quickly stops singing when the attic door swings open, hitting the wall with a slam. Jonas jumps out of his arms, finally free from his embrace, and Isak stands like a deer caught in the headlights as Ida storms the room with a royal guard in her wake. 

“See? It’s just a servant boy, nobody of any importance. And believe me, he never leaves this house. He was _not_ at that Ball —“

“I have orders, Ma’m.” The guard cuts her off, and Isak looks between the two in shock. 

Ida looks to Isak, narrowing her eyes. “I forbid you from trying on that slipper.” She warns, and Isak sucks in a breath. He’s about to respond, but the guard interrupts. 

“And who are _you_ to forbid your Majesty’s orders?” He asks, and Ida goes red. “Sir, you are requested, and required, to present yourself before his royal highness, Prince Even. Please, follow me.” He looks to Isak, a warm smile on his face, and he feels Jonas’ head push against his leg, urging him to move forward. 

He goes, sparing a glance at Ida, who looks like she could faint. Isak feels the same. 

“Just remember who you are.” Ida says, voice cold and distant. 

There was no Eskild, no magic, _nothing_ to help Isak this time around. His heart sank as he caught a glance at himself in the mirror, looking dishevelled and tired, his clothing ragged. 

_Have courage, and be kind. _He thinks, but the words barely help this time around. 

Isak continues forward, each step feeling heavier than the next.

**ONSDAG 15:15**

Even paces the small living room, where he’s been left alone for a moment, eyes darting from painting to painting, unrecognizable faces staring back at him vacantly. He feels hopeless. So far the search had given him no results, and no hope of finding his Isak. He knew he was out there _somewhere_, and couldn’t understand why he didn’t want to be found. 

Did he not feel what Even had felt that night? Did their exchange of words, or lack thereof, not leave a lasting impression as it has on Even? So many questions filled his mind, and yet, no answers.

He pauses at a canvas that lies forgotten against the wall, a portrait of a family, a husband and his wife with their young son. Their faces, unlike the others, have something to them, something Even can’t place. He eyes it curiously, tilting his head to the side before he looks away, now looking at himself in the mirror above the fireplace. 

He gasps, for behind him stands a servant boy, his head bowed, blonde curls falling around him and preventing Even from seeing his face. 

He turns quickly on his heel, watching with bated breath as the boy finishes his formal bow before he finally meets Even’s eyes. 

Deep green eyes stare back at him, a dash of what seems to be ash is scuffed against his soft, ruddy cheeks, wearing an expression of worry that only makes Even want to reach out and hold him. He doesn’t, neither of them daring to approach first. 

“Who are you?” Even asks, and though he knows the answer, he needs to hear him say it first. 

“I am Isak Valtersen.” He says quietly and Even holds back a smile. “Your Majesty, I’m…I’m no Prince. I have no carriage, no parents, and no dowry. I have _nothing_ to offer you. I don’t even know if that shoe will fit.” 

Even is about to speak, but Isak continues, stepping forward and making the words fall on Even’s tongue. 

“But if it does…would you take me as I am? An honest servant boy who wants nothing more than to love you?” 

Even is speechless, staring at Isak with wide eyes, his heart feeling light in his chest. Isak is _here. _Standing right in front of him, looking so beautiful and so timid. 

“Most things are out of my control Isak. But I do know this,” He steps towards him, and Isak lets out a shaky breath, their stares never wavering from one another. For now, it feels as though they're the only two existing beings in the whole universe. “Only I can feel what I feel.” He repeats those words, those beautiful words that Isak had said to him, and he can see the way it affects Isak, recognition flowing over his face, a small smile beginning to form at the corners of his mouth. He’s even more beautiful than Even remembered, blushing helplessly and standing nervously in front of him. 

“Please.” He gestures for Isak to take a seat, and holds out his hand as one of the guards place the glass slipper in his hand. For once, the slipper doesn't feel like a heavy weight in his hands, reminding him of what he lost. If anything, it feels like a feather, light and significant, a treasure. A hope, that glistens in his grip. 

Isak looks at him expectantly as he sits on the edge of the seat, his back straight, and Even kneels down on one knee before him, feeling an odd sense of tension rising in his throat. He holds his breath, reaching with his free hand for Isak's ankle. He's so dainty, and soft, and Even admires him for a moment, meeting his eyes as he slides the slipper effortlessly onto his foot. The moment feels like it lasts forever as the two stare down at it, the perfect fit. 

He looks up to Isak and can’t help but let a smile take over his face. Isak returns it, letting out a small chuckle before he breathes in, as it seems he was holding his breath. Even stands, pulling Isak up with him, and brings a hand to his cheek, to the back of his neck, pulling him in. 

Their lips meet sweetly, and it’s everything Even could have hoped for. 

Isak kisses back softly, and though it only lasts a moment, though it’s only a mere peck, Even knows it’s the best kiss of his life. 

“Isak!” 

Isak moves away suddenly, retracting from Even’s touch, and both their heads turn to look as his step-sisters run into the room, and Even vaguely remembers their faces as the two girls who were desperate to dance with him at the ball. 

“Isak, my dear brother.” One of them begins, “I’m so sorry.” 

She follows with a curtsey, as does the other, and Even looks towards Isak to see his mouth hanging open in shock. His reaction is enough to tell Even that these two never treated him like this. It made his heart ache, and yearn, to show Isak that he’s worth all the love and kindness in the world. 

He looks back to Even, and can’t help but smile when he finds Even already looking at him. Even never wants to see another sight than Isak, smiling up at him, dimples prominent, this cupid bow daring him to lean in and kiss the smile away. 

Isak bends down and takes off the slipper, holding it with one hand. He doesn't meet Even’s eyes again for a few long moments that for Even, feels like days. 

“Shall we?” He asks, and Isak meets his eyes again, finally, and Even breathes a sigh of relief as Isak nods. 

Even holds his hand out, and Isak links his fingers in his. A perfect fit. A promise of everlasting love. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh! I loved this au so much! I hope youve enjoyed reading it as much as I have writing it!!
> 
> kudos & comments much appreciated!! 
> 
> I'm thinking of writing a mini epilogue to show their lives after ~ if that is something you'd like to read, let me know in the comments!
> 
> xo kris :**

**Author's Note:**

> do you think they'll meet again? :")
> 
> as always, kudos & comments much appreciated. more to come soon!  
~ xo kris


End file.
